


Peace in these mountains

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1563800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don’t need to say much between them, the days pass without event and each knows what the other does, it’s the shared memories in their heads and the unspoken words of their gestures, the years behind them and the ease between them, that makes it so peaceful in these mountains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace in these mountains

Castiel sits quietly on the old wooden chair that’s warped itself to the shape of his body over the decades, a basket of soft blue yarn beside him trailing up to the knitting needles he deftly maneuvers in his hands. The sun is bright today, but not over bearing for the fat white clouds that pass lazily over the sky providing a modicum of shade. Somehow the rhythmic clacking of his needles seems to be aligned with the heavy thunks of wood being split in the yard.

Cain is down to his sleeveless tank top, suspenders unlooped from his shoulders hanging limp over brown tweed pants, arms rising and falling in a steady motion as he lifts a log to the stump, chops, and lifts another. It’s getting on late into fall by now, tinges of gold and red dotting the trees sprawling along the rise of mountains surrounding them, and one can never have enough wood in the cold harsh winters.

Eyes still a bright clear blue look up from the afghan taking shape in his lap, pausing a moment as Cain pauses, his partner running the length of a tan forearm across his brow to wipe away sweat. The other man’s thick beard is peppered with gray, his temples as well, the years also taking their toll in the creases around his eyes. But Castiel does not mind the aging. It has taken a toll on his body as well, his shoulder bad enough he can’t swing the ax to chop wood himself, but the aches and pains of his body wither unimportant next to peace he has found here.

The years may be taking a toll on their bodies, but it has softened and eased their minds. The two men - now old mountain men - had first met in war, exhausted and desperate and oh so much younger than either of them had thought then. Castiel had joined the military for the reason many young men do, because it was what their father had done and his father before him, because it was what men did, because it meant loyalty and duty. How wrong had he been. But he found something beautiful through in the dirt of the trenches and the blood in his eyes. He found Cain.

That’s an old, old story, a nightmare that plagues him only on rare blue moons. The aches in their bodies from being abused still throb and flare, worsening in age, but the harshness and anger has mellowed. With time Castiel has been lent perspective and he can see the edges now, can see where the cracks started to form and his life was ripped apart, where it was sewn back together, and how the scars have faded over time. Now he has his peace, and his mind is more whole with the age.

The impact of the axe against another piece of wood snaps him out of his contemplation, setting aside his knitting Castiel stands and stretches his back with hands splayed on his hips before ambling down the wide steps of the porch that graces their small cabin.

“I need to go into town today, we’ve enough honey to sell a few crates, and I’ve finished that afghan I promised Ms. Morris.”

Cain pauses his work and stands relaxed, breathing deep, eyes drifting over the softening shape of his partner, tan skin starting to sink and dark hair thinning, but those eyes are as sharp as ever.

“All right, I need to work on canning more of those vegetables, go without me.”

They did get a good harvest from their garden this year, it had been a great year all around period. The bees were thriving in their colony, the earth was pushing up fat vegetables, there had been no medical emergencies or major repairs to the house. Just Castiel, Cain, the warmth of their shared bed, the quiet of easy companionship, the strange comfort of knowing someone else better than you know yourself.

Castiel would go into town later that day and sell what goods they had for the meager income that was all they needed, oddly enough he was better with other people than Cain even though he was just as quiet and reticent. It would be wise to purchase supplies as well with the same trip, and when he stocked up on materials they couldn’t produce themselves like toiletries and baking supplies, Castiel would also find the peppermint tea that comes in the little purple tins which Cain favored so well.

And while he is out, Cain will make good use of his time with work around the house, washing and preparing vegetables to can, making sure to sprinkle dill and garlic in with the green beans the way that Castiel likes. Later they’ll sit and have dinner together like they do every night, quiet, relaxed.

They don’t need to say much between them, the days pass without event and each knows what the other does, it’s the shared memories in their heads and the unspoken words of their gestures, the years behind them and the ease between them, that makes it so peaceful in these mountains.


End file.
